This Light Was On….

Greetings all!!

Thanks, Dad for making sure that this sconce that shone just inside the front door of the home I grew up in was delivered to me before you passed to the other side.  Neither one of us knew it at the time, but this sconce was going to be the only “thing” as close to “personal effects” that I would have to remember you after you passed away.

I cherish it greatly.

It took us both some begging and pleading to get the sconce to me. Once it arrived from Detroit to Salt Lake City, I was sad to see it was delivered broken. A clean crack down it’s side. Without hesitation, I pulled out the phone book and called a glass restoration business that was not too far away from where I live. I had an hour before the business closed to deliver the sconce there and to plead with them and hold out hope it could be fixed. “No problem!” the owner said. “We can use a UV activated glue to mend this, though you might still see where the break existed.” I was ecstatic and gave the go ahead to have the repair completed. A couple of days later, it was ready. The picture was taken as I laid it on my bed. I’ll be hanging it up this next week on the wall.

This sconce means a lot to me, Dad, as I told you. I appreciated you and Mom leaving it on for me when I’d be out late at night. Though sometimes I’d be a bit drunk, I never took any drugs. I know you’d be proud to hear that. And that light helped my drunk ass find the stairs that led to my room upstairs. That sconce that shone in the living room meant that somebody cared enough to remember me. Someone remembered I was out being an honorable young man. I never got into trouble with the law. I really never did anything WRONG, save for let a girl drive Mom’s car without a license. But, hey Dad…she was pretty! How could I say no?  We got pulled over as a brake light was burned out. I had to go to court. This sconce was on when I got home late that night and feeling scared about the punishment I was going to get. Not from court, but from YOU!!

Me and Mom kept that a secret. The judge gave me a small fine and an admonishment. It worked. I never let anyone drive my car, or Mom’s car again. License or not. I don’t think you ever knew that happened. But that sconce saw me walk into the house with my head down.

I am so glad to have it here, Dad. I will pass it on to your grandkids when I am gone. Right now it is a solemn touchstone to the house you bought and where I had so many memories. Most good, Some bad, but they are my memories that you helped to form.

I’ll keep that sconce and your name shining brightly in my home.

A Winter View

 

One of my favorite photos I took from the roof of Rose Wagner Theatre during a winter day looking across the roof to the Grand America Hotel in Salt Lake City.

Hey Dad, I Need To Tell You This.......

Hey Dad...I'd always say "Hey Dad" when you'd call, or when I would call you.

It's been a little over 2 months since you passed to the other side, and just a couple weeks since

I was back in Michigan with your Grand-daughter to attend your memorial service. I have been

thinking a lot about you since then.

I had not seen you in many years before you passed away, but I felt close to you as you did make

every effort to keep in touch with me and your 3 Grandchildren. When Saturdays and

Sundays come now, the phone does not ring with that familiar "313-898-01.." phone number

on the caller ID anymore. I knew that number my whole life. We didn't move around growing

up. My assistant principal at Hanneman Elementary referred to our family as a "staple family"

you made sure to keep things as normal as possible for me as a kid....well, other than the

horrible fights with Mom, or your iron fist "Drill Sargent" as you called it, way you chose to

discipline me. You apologized for all of that a few months before you passed over. I told you

"It's OK. You DO better when you KNOW better". It's a line I stole from Oprah. But I find

it to be true. I have been thinking a lot about what you tried to do for the family as I was growing up.

There were always summer trips. Irish Hills, Cedar Pointe, Kentucky, North Carolina. But

Irish Hills and Cedar Pointe were always the most frequent destinations. Camping and swimming at Irish Hills. Cedar Pointe and it's roller-coasters off of Lake Erie.

I'd get so excited to go to either. You really didn't show a lot of emotions. I mostly remember you being angry at one thing or another.

You'd laugh in slight spurts, and I think other people laughing made you uncomfortable.

You hated it when I'd turn on comedy shows. "Why don't you watch something that makes

a little fucking SENSE?!" You'd say. And Oh Jayyyysuus, I would sit through so many

PBS shows. Nova...you loved Nova. Sundays brought "Wild Kingdom" and you bought the

encyclopedia set that I would sit and read for hours. Volume after volume. I used to curse you

making me sit through all of those shows. But you know what, Dad? I know A LOT of things

from watching those shows and reading those encyclopedias. I bet you didn't know why I

spent so much time reading the encyclopedias. Well, as much as you hated comedy shows,

you loved violent, action packed movies. One night I was sitting with you and Mom watching "Three Days of the Condor" starring Robert Redford.

Now, "The Condor" was an espionage expert, as you know. He was killing and tricking the bad guys and knew how to tap phones and escape..."The Condor" was a sight to behold.

There was a line in that movie where one of the bad guys asks his partner (speaking about "The Condor") "How does he know how to DO all of this shit?" The bad guys partner replied "Because he reads EVERYTHING!!"

"WOW!!" I thought. Just by READING i could DO all of this shit? So, I started to read EVERYTHING, Dad.

From ingredients on shampoo bottles and shave cream cans while in the bathroom. To the

encyclopedias, to text books...you name it. Dad, even by allowing me to watch the movies, you inspired me to keep learning.

People REFUSE to play trivia games with me. You'd be proud, Dad. I am pretty fucking smart!

This has served me well in college. Yeah, you discouraged me from going to college when I got outta high school.

"Go to Trade School" you said. I went to work for K-Mart instead. Warehouse shit. Then I went

to school to be a sound engineer...with MY hearing, that worked out great.

As you know, Dad, things were not working out well in Detroit for me. I didn't really have a good job. The factories were closing due to the greedy corporate assholes that didn't give a damn

about Detroit's future. So I moved to Utah. Your daughter lived here for years, and you warned me about her. I should have listened.

I got married, drove trucks, had 3 kids, then I took your advice and went to Trade School.

Union sponsored Trade School!! Heating and Air Conditioning and Pipefitting. 4 and a half

years of school, 6 months shy of graduating and I starting going through the divorce.

I worked hard to learn my trade. I worked excessive hours trying to feed the family.

Got re-married and became stable. Got a great job with the local government now, Dad.

Does not pay as well as the private sector, but it gives me a benefit of having time off.

I use the time off to pursue a college degree now, Dad. I thought your advice was terrible for years.

"Don't go to college". A parent never says that. But, you know what, Dad? I have always had a job. Pays the bills, my skills are in demand.

And now that I am settled and in the government, I can use a college degree to ride a desk as

my body falters and is not as adept to climbing on roof tops in summer and winter. I also

qualify now for Pell Grants, so the government helps me to achieve my educational goals

so long as I keep good grades. And as I said...I am pretty fucking smart, Dad. Except math...but you remember THAT struggle.

As much as you tried to yell and scream math aptitude into me...my mind just has a hard time grasping numbers.


I have been thinking about all of the things you did and said, Dad. I am glad you created a mind

in me that would be open to new ideas. You didn't believe in being a zealot to anything.

About 7 months ago, when I mentioned my interest in becoming a Free Mason, you encouraged

me to pursue it. You told me of you own interest in it, but you told me you never had time to commit to it fully.

When I told you how I was enjoying Gnostic gospels, you expressed a great interest in it and encouraged me to read more of it.

Dad, I need to tell you this:

I miss you. I have missed you for many years. I wish we could have fished a little more, camped a little more and maybe could have watched a few more movies.

I will bet you did not know how much you influenced me to learn and learn some more.

I wonder if you did that on purpose.

I have become a lot like you,Dad. Well, except for my kids are not afraid of me, and I laugh a lot. Maybe talk too much and bullshit frequently.

I break balls just like you did in the garage. But, just like you, I treasure the opportunities to help people.

I am unselfish just like you, Dad. Me and your Grand-Daughter were sitting waiting for the U2 show to start and we were lamenting the fact of how we did not like selfish people.

I told her that the unselfishness comes from you and your Dad. I am glad I have passed the unselfish nature on to your Grand-daughters and your Grand-son.

When we see each other again, Dad, it will be one grand sight. I won't be limping around on my shot ankles and you won't be dizzy and your hands will not be asleep.

Our hearing might be good enough to hear one another!!

I know you come around here often, Dad. I was certain you attended the U2 show with me and your Grand-Daughter. You always wondered what the appeal was with my following that band for 20 plus years. Did you like the show? I think you see the appeal now.

You are welcome to visit as much as you like, Dad. Move in if you want to.

But, I think you are enjoying your time on the other side. Blitz and Blizzard, your son, your Mother and Father. Has to be a great homecoming.

I am enjoying my time on earth, Dad. I have a lot of fun. I have fucked up some, and I have done good for people.

I can wait a lot longer to see you, but I do feel you. I wasn't there when you were dying.

You told me not to be there. You knew I was in school. You asked me to do well, to learn and pass the class.

So, I stayed home. Never missed a class, but my mind could not escape the thoughts of your death.

When you died, it was during spring break. I was in a difficult math class. Yeah, MATH.

Sorry, Dad. I failed that class. Well, I got a D..needed a C. I just could not let my mind let go of your passing. And numbers are so hard for me anyway.

But, I will pass the class in the fall. I will dedicate the semester to your memory, and I will pass the class.

I am sure this letter has been on the cusp of a rambling session for more than a few paragraphs, so I will close now.

Thanks, Dad for everything. I am sure you are very proud of me and your grandchildren.

We are you!! And we will see you later. No offense, but I hope much much later.

Thanks to what you made us, our lives are pretty good!!

Take Care,Dad (I always said "Take Care" when we'd say our good-byes, remember?)

Johnny